


if i had my way

by ymorton



Series: divorce verse [3]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 01:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: partial sequel todweller on the thresholdandhold your peace. lovett visits jon in LA.





	if i had my way

**Author's Note:**

> please don't show this to any of the real people involved!!!!! it is 100% fictional.

**-**

**JANUARY, 2024**

-

“There he is,” Jon calls out the window, as he finally catches sight of Lovett in the throng of people at LAX Arrivals. Lovett has a bag slung over one shoulder and a baseball cap on and when he sees Jon his mouth starts working like he’s trying not to smile.

He opens the passenger door and slides in, dropping his bag in the back. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Jon says, grinning. “You made it.” 

“Barely.” Lovett rolls his eyes when Jon reaches across for an awkward hug. “My flight was _awful_ , I thought we were gonna go down over the Midwest. The lady next to me wanted to hold my hand. I’m not even joking.” 

“Oh my god,” Jon laughs. 

“I know. What a mess.” Lovett sighs as Jon pulls away from the curb. 

“So, what do you want to do?” Jon asks. “Should we get dinner?” 

“Takeout?” Lovett says, yawning into his elbow. “I’m tired. I had a deadline so I barely slept last night.” 

“Who for?” 

“Uhh, Daily Beast. Just a little thing about the primaries.” 

“Ooh, I want to read that.” 

“I’ll email it to you. I don’t think it’ll be up til next week.” Lovett yawns again. “God, you know what I really want?” 

“If you say fucking In-N-Out, I swear to God-“ 

“It sounds sooo good.” 

Jon snorts. Lovett’s been whining over the phone about New York’s lack of In-N-Out for the past month. 

“You know we have real restaurants in this town, right?” 

“Come on,” Lovett wheedles. “Let’s do it. I look terrible, I don’t want to run into anyone I know.” 

Jon sneaks a glance at him and Lovett rolls his eyes and pulls his hoodie more tightly around himself. 

“You don’t look terrible.” 

“Please, Jon. Please. I need a double-double. Look, there’s one at this exit, let’s just do it. Live a little.” 

“ _Fine_ ,” Jon sighs, flicking the blinker on. “But you’re buying.” 

\---

Lovett falls asleep at 9PM that night, halfway through an episode of Jeopardy. Jon only notices when he stops calling out the answers. 

He turns the volume down, looks over at Lovett on the couch. He can just see his cheek, his soft open mouth. He’s gotten a haircut since Jon saw him last. It’s nice to just look at him for a minute without Lovett looking back. 

Finally he pushes himself up from his chair, rolling his neck til it cracks. Lovett stirs when Jon comes close and sits on the ottoman. 

“Hey,” Jon says. He hesitates for a second before he takes Lovett’s shoulder in his hand and gives him a gentle shake. “Hey. Wake up.” 

Lovett grumbles and tugs the blanket higher up his neck. 

“Jon,” Jon says softly. “I made up the guest bed.” 

“S'okay,” Lovett mutters. "Sleeping." 

“Hey, I put on fresh sheets for you. Not gonna let you waste them. Come on.” 

Finally Lovett blinks at him, mouth set stubbornly. 

“You’re annoying,” he says. He sounds more awake.

“Yeah, I’m such an annoying host, doing laundry for you.” Jon huffs a laugh. “C'mon.” 

Lovett groans and relents. 

\---

“Look at this,” Lovett says the next morning, pillowing his head on his hands and peeking at Jon. “Look at you. Cooking. What are you, a chef?”

“It’s just eggs.” 

“ _And_ toast. I’m impressed.” 

“You have low standards.” 

Lovett humphs and sits up. “Yeah, well, I’ve been eating leftover takeout for breakfast for the past three months. Occasionally I’ll get myself an egg and cheese from the bodega downstairs. And I wonder why I’ve gained weight.” 

“You haven’t taken up cooking with Sam gone? I’m shocked.” 

“Hey, you know what, I’ve been baking a lot, actually. I made this carrot cake last month, it was amazing. I ate the entire thing in two days.” 

Jon snorts. “Maybe you should send me some next time to prevent that from happening.” 

He grinds pepper onto the eggs. Lovett watches him. 

“So,” he says. “Is this what you make for all the twenty-five year olds you sleep with?” 

He smirks when Jon glances up at him sharply. Jon rolls his eyes and looks down again.

“Shut up.” 

“How _is_ your love life, Jon? Have you started dating people your own age?” 

“None of your business,” Jon says lightly. The truth is there hasn’t been anyone, and Jon’s pretty sure there won’t be in the foreseeable future. But he’s not telling Lovett that. He doesn’t know how to explain why it feels impossible. 

“Ooh, none of my business.” Lovett wiggles his eyebrows. “Sounds juicy. Did you finally download Tinder or are you going old school and like, going to bars?” 

Jon ignores that. “Go butter the toast, this is almost done.” 

Lovett sighs and slides off the stool. 

“Jeez, you act like I’m some TMZ reporter, not your best friend,” he says. “This is what gay guys do, Jon. We talk about- about hookups. We share.” 

“Oh, is that what we do?” Jon forces a laugh. His heart’s beating hard in his chest, just from saying _we_. “How about we talk about Tommy’s big speech today? Did you read the draft I sent you?” 

“Uhh, I was going to on the plane, but then I fell asleep.” 

“Oh, thanks. Was it that boring?” 

“I honestly didn’t even start it.” Lovett accepts the plate Jon sets in front of him. “Thanks. Do you have hot sauce?” 

“Yeah, check in the fridge.” 

He crows when he finds some, shuts the fridge so hard the shelves rattle. "Cholula. _Yes_. I knew there was a reason I stayed with you." 

\---

Lovett doesn’t get around to reading the draft until they go into Tommy’s campaign office after breakfast. He checks in with all the interns, makes fun of Tommy’s campaign logo, bugs Priyanka until she forces him out of her office, and finally settles down with his laptop and opens the document. 

“Okay,” he says, giving Jon a look. “I’m reading now. So be quiet.” 

Jon mimes zipping his lips. He checks his Twitter timeline, and then refreshes it, and then checks his email. When he peeks over the top of his iPad, Lovett’s still reading, brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You look concerned,” Jon says, laughing. “What part are you at?” 

“Shh,” Lovett says, not looking at him. 

Jon sighs and goes back to Twitter. 

Lovett shuts the laptop, and Jon looks up. 

“Well?” 

Lovett’s quiet, gnawing his thumbnail. 

“Shit,” Jon says. “It’s too corny, isn’t it? There’s no way Tommy can say it with a straight face. You hate it. Do you hate it? Listen, I know that line about unity in the face of tragedy was kinda cheap.” 

Lovett looks up at him, and- his eyes are glassy. 

Jon’s stomach twists. “Well? The event’s in three hours, we don’t have time to completely change the structure, but we can-”  

Lovett shakes his head, takes his finger out of his mouth. 

“I fucking hate you,” he says. His voice is a little unsteady. “God. I hate you for being able to write like that.” 

Jon grins. He can’t help it. “So does that mean you like it?” 

“It’s- I mean, yes, it’s sappy, and it could be tighter, but it’s-” Lovett shakes his head, brow furrowed. “How do you do that? I mean, how do you- the _pacing_ , like- and that part about the wildfires? That's fucking- presidential. Senatorial for sure. Tommy’s gonna _kill_ that part.” 

“Okay, relax, you’re gonna give me a big head,” Jon says, still grinning. “Start editing, dude. Make it less cheesy. Rip me apart, don’t hold back.” 

Lovett opens the laptop again, hits the space bar a couple times. He starts scrolling again, and stops. 

“There was this speech you wrote in 08,” he says. “I don’t remember where he gave it, but- you know I had to read all your speeches, right? So we wouldn’t rip you off. God, Sarah and I used to tear them _apart_.” 

“Thank you?” 

“Hours of hopey changey bullshit.” He snorts. “But this one, god, I don’t remember where he actually- Charlotte, maybe? Charleston? Anyway. It made both of us cry. Seriously.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Lovett won’t look at him. “It was like 2 AM, we were trying to finish a draft, and we both started crying at this speech. It was that one about- like, patriotism and optimism, with the story about the single mom on Medicaid?” 

Jon shrugs. He can barely remember. It’s been a long time. 

“Anyway. It was a good speech.” Lovett starts scrolling again, laughing to himself. “God, I haven’t thought about that in so long. I fucking love how you write.” 

Jon’s breath catches. Lovett’s never actually said that to him before. He’s said it in as many words- a speech dotted with red-pen exclamation marks, or all the times he nudged his head against Jon’s shoulder when Obama hit a line that made the crowd burst into applause, grinned up at him like they were the kings of the world. But not like this. 

Lovett looks sharply up at him when Jon can’t find anything to say. 

“Okay, leave me alone so I can edit.” 

“Okay,” Jon says faintly, and then- “Thanks.” 

Lovett waves him off. 

\---

They’re a couple hours out when Lovett looks up from his laptop and his jaw drops open. He pulls out his headphones. 

“Oh my- god,” he says, staring past Jon. “Oh my god. What are you _doing_ here?” 

Jon turns around, bemused, and sees that it’s Sam. Lovett’s Sam. He’s grinning ear to ear. 

“You’re supposed to be in Shanghai!” Lovett accuses, standing up. “You’re- you’re supposed to be-” 

“Hi,” Sam says, laughing. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

He throws his bag down and wraps an arm around Lovett. Jon looks away when they kiss. 

“Oh my god,” Lovett says, muffled against Sam’s mouth. He pulls away, still talking. “Oh my god. You’re insane, that’s like a twelve hour flight. When did you get in?” 

“I just came from the airport,” Sam says, giving Jon a nod. “Hey, Jon.” 

“Hey, man. Good to see you.” 

Sam looks back at Lovett, stroking a hand through his hair. “Tommy told me you were here, I don’t have any classes for the next week, so I thought I’d come surprise you. Have a little holiday.” 

“Well, I am thoroughly surprised,” Lovett says. “Even though I was gonna lose ten pounds before you got back, so, you kind of ruined that plan-“ 

Sam laughs into another kiss, pulling Lovett close. That feels like enough of a cue to leave, so Jon snaps his laptop shut. Tommy’s in the doorway watching them. He raises an eyebrow at Jon, and Jon forces a smile and says, “Gotta finish up.” 

“Sounds good,” Tommy says. He steps into the room and grins at Lovett and Sam. “Glad you made it, man. The look on his face was so good.” 

Lovett punches Tommy’s shoulder as Sam wraps him in a hug, thumping his back a few times. 

“You assholes planned this? Jon, were you in on this too? I had _no_ idea. Usually I have at least an inkling.” 

Jon breathes out a nervous laugh, holding his laptop to his chest. 

“Just gonna-“ he says, nodding at the door. None of them are looking at him, so he goes without finishing his sentence. 

\--- 

He’s finishing a sandwich and reading over the final draft when he feels Tommy behind him. 

“Sorry,” Tommy says. “I should have told you he was coming. It was all kind of last minute.” 

“It’s fine,” Jon says. He doesn’t look up. “It’s great. We- we should all have dinner or something. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.” 

“Yeah, sure. Maybe.” Tommy’s quiet for a long second. Jon looks up at him. 

“You need something?” 

Tommy shakes his head. “How’s it looking?” he asks, nodding at the speech. 

“Good. You should be set, Lovett only made a couple changes. I’ll send it over when I’m done.” 

Tommy pats his shoulder. “You’re the best.” 

Jon shoots him a smile and looks back down. 

The speech goes well. Jon watches from backstage, chewing his thumbnail. Tommy nails it like he always does, makes it human, makes it flow. He’s so good at that. Jon tells him so afterwards and Tommy squeezes him hard. 

“It’s all you, man,” he says in Jon’s ear, before he moves onto Hanna, kissing her mouth and scooping Zoe up into his arms.

\---

Afterwards Lovett and Sam come back to Jon’s place to grab Lovett’s stuff. 

“I don’t think I’ve been here,” Sam says, looking around the condo as Lovett shoves his laptop charger into his bag. “It’s, uh, it’s a nice place.” 

Lovett looks up. “I keep telling him to decorate. It’s depressing in here. It looks like he just moved in.” 

“I’ve been decorating!” Jon protests. “Molly got me a painting for Christmas, I got a new couch a few months ago-” 

“One painting and one couch do not constitute interior design, Jon.” 

“My ex was better at that kind of stuff,” Jon says to Sam, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, uh, how long are you guys staying? You want to grab dinner sometime this week? Tommy and Hanna and everyone?” 

“Tomorrow night, right?” Sam says, pulling out his phone. “Hanna sent out the address-”  

“ _Sam_ ,” Lovett says tightly, and Sam stops dead. “Can you bring my bag to the car?” 

Sam gives Jon a wide-eyed look and goes, grabbing Lovett’s suitcase. 

“Everything okay?” Jon asks, huffing a laugh as the door closes. Sam’s been in town for one day and they’re already fighting. That doesn’t bode well. 

“Yeah. I, uh-” Lovett looks up at him, studying his face. Finally he says, “Okay, honestly, we’re going to get dinner with Emily tomorrow.” 

Jon can’t say anything for a moment. Then he forces out- “Oh, okay.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I- I didn’t want it to be awkward. Which obviously failed because Sam’s an idiot. But like I’ve already had a chance to see you, so I thought maybe-”

“No, it’s fine. It’s totally fine.” Jon busies himself straightening a stack of unopened mail. 

“Are you mad? Hanna set it up. We haven’t seen each other in a really long time-” 

“Dude, I’m not mad,” Jon says. It’s crazy how easily that can come out of his mouth. “It’s fine. Ben too?” 

“Yeah,” Lovett says reluctantly. “Is that okay?” 

“Lovett. C’mon. Of course it’s okay.” Jon forces a laugh. “This isn’t high school. We’re all adults here.” 

“I mean, you could come, if you wanted to-” 

Jon gives him a look. “Emily said I could come?” 

“She didn’t say you _couldn’t_ come.” Lovett rolls his eyes as Jon raises an eyebrow. “Okay, I guess it was implied. _Don’t bring my ex-husband to dinner_ probably doesn’t need to be explicitly stated. But you guys are kind of friends, right?” 

“That’s a stretch. But it’s fine, dude, seriously.” 

“You sure?” 

“Of course.” Jon laughs when Lovett won’t stop staring at him. “Stop it. Come on.” 

Lovett nods a few times and grabs his backpack. 

“Sorry you changed the sheets for me,” he says. “And then I only stayed one night. Though I guess that was part of your plan, wasn’t it? You really went the extra mile.”

“No, I didn’t- actually I didn’t know he was coming. He and Tommy must’ve set it up.” 

“Oh.” 

“Probably thought I’d spill the beans,” Jon says, shrugging. “You know I’m bad at keeping secrets.” 

Lovett snorts. “You've kept a _few_. Just ask Emily." 

"Jeez," Jon says, forcing out a laugh. He feels sick. "Tough hit." 

Lovett goes quiet. He shrugs his backpack on all the way and exhales. “Well, I better go. Sam’s in the car.” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you.” 

“Definitely. Sometime this week. Thanks for having me.” 

“Of course. Any time.” 

Lovett hesitates like he's going to go in for a hug, and then pats Jon's shoulder gingerly. It makes both of them laugh. 

"Fucking weirdo," Jon breathes. 

"Shut up." Lovett pushes past him. "See you soon." 

\---

"Soon" turns out to be sooner than Jon thought. His doorbell rings at 9PM the next night and it's Lovett. Jon blinks at him dumbly.

“Hey,” Lovett says. “Have you seen my iPad? I think I left it here. Maybe on the kitchen counter.” 

“I thought you were my-“ Jon sees a car pull to a stop at the curb. Lovett twists around to look. “I ordered Postmates, I thought you were them.” 

“Nope,” Lovett says. “It’s like 9, why are you eating so late? What’d you get?” 

The guy’s walking up the drive, scrolling through his phone. He looks up. “You order Postmates?” 

“Yeah,” Jon says, taking the plastic bag out of his hands. “Thanks.” 

“No problem, man. Enjoy.” 

Lovett follows him inside, shutting the door behind them. Jon’s in boxers and a worn-out Holy Cross sweatshirt and he’s been smoking a little. Thank god it’s just Lovett and not the Lovett-Sam package deal. 

“What’d you get?” Lovett asks again, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen counter as Jon starts pulling boxes out of the bag. “Jesus, is this all for you? Do you have someone hiding upstairs?” 

“Let me remind you I once watched you eat an entire Domino’s pizza,” Jon says, snorting. He opens one box. It’s full of fettuccine alfredo. The next one has wild mushroom gnocchi, and Jon plucks one out with his fingers and puts it in his mouth. God it’s good. “Plus I’m gonna save some for tomorrow.” 

“Ahh, the old save-the-embarrassing-amount-of-takeout-for-tomorrow excuse. I’ve been there, Jon. Many times.” Lovett pulls the box over to him and sniffs it. “Where’s this from?” 

“Amarone.” Jon pulls out his tiramisu and barely resists the urge to drag his finger through the top layer of mascarpone. 

“You can order Postmates from Amarone? That place is nice.” Lovett fumbles in the bag for a fork and comes up empty-handed, so he slides off the stool and starts opening drawers. “We shared a bunch of small plates at La Boheme. You know how I feel about small plates. I’m starving.” 

“Well, this is all for me, so. Sorry.” Jon laughs, watching Lovett search for silverware. “They’re in the drawer next to the sink. No, left.” 

Lovett pulls out forks and dumps them on the counter with a clang before opening the fridge and coming up with two beers. Jon eats another gnocchi. 

“So you forgot your iPad?” 

“I think so,” Lovett says, sinking his fork into the mess of fettuccine and twisting. He shoves it in his mouth and groans happily. “Oh my god that’s good. Fuck.” 

Jon reaches over to take a bite. It is pretty great. “You want a plate?” 

“No,” Lovett says, still chewing. He swallows and grabs his beer. “If it’s on a plate that means I’m really eating a second dinner. Out of a takeout box doesn’t count.” 

Jon laughs and takes another bite. Fuck it. He’s hungry. He leans against the counter and they’re quiet for a minute, just eating. Lovett looks up at him sheepishly after a particularly huge bite, sauce at the side of his mouth, and they both start laughing. 

“What?” Lovett says suspiciously when Jon doesn’t stop. He rubs the side of his mouth. 

“Nothing,” Jon chokes. He feels high again, some kind of residual giddiness. Life is just so strange sometimes. Lovett’s eating pasta in his kitchen. Lovett had dinner with Jon’s ex-wife tonight. Jon has a fucking _ex-wife_. He gasps a laugh and reaches for a napkin. 

“Wait, are you-“ Lovett’s eyes narrow. “Are you stoned right now?” 

Jon holds his thumb and forefinger a couple inches apart and starts giggling again. 

“Oh my god.” Lovett snorts. “Eating an obscene amount of pasta alone while stoned? You really know how to live, Jon.” 

“Not just pasta,” Jon says, pulling out the box of tiramisu. “I got dessert too.” 

“Oh my god, gimme.” Lovett licks his fork thoroughly and reaches over. 

“Hey. Back off.” 

Lovett leans in and snags a forkful. “What’d you smoke? I want in. I’m tense.” 

“Tense?” Jon spears a gnocchi and puts it in his mouth. “From what? From dinner?” 

“I don’t know, kind of. Can I smoke?”  

Jon hands over his vape and Lovett starts laughing. 

“God, you’re such a California douchebag. Look at this. Jon Favreau, pothead. Obama would be so proud.” 

“Shut up and hit it, you hypocrite.” 

Lovett makes a face at him and takes a long pull. Jon cracks up when he starts coughing and can’t stop. 

\---

“Thank God you got the pool chairs in the divorce,” Lovett snorts. They’re stretched out on Jon and Emily’s chaise lounges in Jon’s tiny pool-less backyard with another beer each. Lovett found his iPad already, but Jon’s not gonna tell him to leave. Jon’ll let him stay as long as he wants. 

“Shut up,” Jon says, laughing. “She didn’t want them.” 

“You should thank your lawyer.” 

“Shut _up_ , dude.” Jon starts laughing so hard he can’t breathe for a minute. “You- you know what’s funny?” 

Lovett looks over at him, squinting. 

“Emily- Emily wants them back.” Jon chokes a laugh. “Because Ben has a pool. She wants to trade one of our couches for them. We’re probably gonna do it next week.” 

“Holy shit,” Lovett says, as Jon starts giggling again. “I didn’t realize divorce was like a barter system. God, that’s bleak. Eternal love reduced down to trading furniture.” 

“Yeah,” Jon says, catching his breath. “Bleak’s a pretty good word for it.”

“Jesus. You should ask for _more_. Ask for like, a new TV or something. Get your money’s worth. These chairs are nice.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Do you have to like, do that stuff through your lawyers? Or do you just talk to each other?” 

“No lawyers,” Jon says vaguely. “No lawyers. I mean, obviously there were lawyers. Before. But not now.” 

Lovett hums and takes a hit off the pen. “I like this.”  

“It’s good, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s nice. I always like, forget to smoke weed. Sam doesn’t like it so I don’t really have anyone to do it with. And smoking alone gets a little depressing after a while.” 

Jon’s been getting high before bed almost every night since he got back from London, because his doctor won’t refill his Ativan prescription and he sleeps like shit without it. He thinks briefly about telling Lovett that and then decides against it. He feels too good to get into it. 

“We’d smoke sometimes during the ’08 campaign,” he says instead, head tipped back. The stars are so bright. “Back in Chicago. Alyssa always had the best weed.” 

“Of course she did.” 

“Back in our old place. Back in the Pad.” Jon smiles up at the sky. He remembers that place so clearly, even though it was decades ago now. His shitty twin bed. The tiny kitchen which was always sticky for some reason. Tommy’s room where Jon would go sleep sometimes because Tommy had the only A/C unit. They’d smoke a bowl and talk strategy until they fell asleep. Sometimes Jon would wake up with his cheek against a crumpled paper full of incoherent notes and Tommy curled up warm and solid behind him, breathing against Jon’s neck. 

And Jon was gay, that whole time. He stops smiling. He wonders if Tommy ever suspected. If there was something about Jon, that was just- off. Something Jon couldn’t see.

He’s too high to think about this. He’s too fucking high to think about who knew, and when they knew, and how. He fumbles for his beer. 

“Well, we didn’t use drugs,” Lovett’s saying primly. “Like your pack of overgrown frat bros. We were actually _working_. You know, trying to run a campaign?” 

“Shut up,” Jon says, automatic. His mind’s still racing. Did he ever do anything back then? Did he ever- touch Tommy too long? Want to be around him too much? He wanted to be around him all the time, but it wasn’t like _that_. It was normal. Jon was normal then. 

He feels sick and dizzy all of a sudden and he says, “Pass me the pen.” 

Lovett passes it over but Jon doesn’t take a hit. He stares up at the sky and holds it tight in his fist, trying to stay calm. 

“Not gonna lie, I’m glad that dinner’s over,” Lovett says out of nowhere. 

Jon looks over at him. “What happened?” 

“Nothing. I mean, it was fine, it was just- long. All we talked about was like, houses and babies.” 

“I can’t believe Tommy’s gonna have another kid.” Jon sighs. “Zoe’s gonna be a big sister.”

“I know, it’s crazy. We’re like adults now. I mean, we were adults before, but this is a new level.” 

“Are, uh, are you and Sam thinking about-” 

“No,” Lovett says vehemently. “Jesus. No. It was just Hanna and Emily complaining about morning sickness or whatever. And Sam’s nicer than me so he kept asking all these follow-up questions, and I was like-” 

“Wait,” Jon says, blankly. “Is Emily pregnant?” 

Lovett looks over at him, eyes going wide. “Oh, fuck, are you serious?”

“Is she actually pregnant?” 

“Yeah, I thought you knew that,” Lovett breathes. “You didn’t know that?” 

“Nope,” Jon says faintly. “I did not know that.” 

“I thought you guys talked all the time. With Leo and stuff. I thought- I thought you knew already. She didn’t tell me not to tell you.” 

“Oh, of course she didn’t. Why would she do that?” Jon tries not to sound bitter but Lovett looks uncomfortable anyway. “When, um, when is she due?” 

“Like, July, I think?” 

“With- with Ben? I mean, it’s Ben’s, obviously?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jon nods, dazed. He takes another hit. 

“That’s great,” he says belatedly, exhaling. He coughs into his elbow. “That’s awesome. Wow.” 

“I thought she told you. Sorry.” Lovett shifts anxiously on the chair. 

“No, it’s cool, that’s- that’s great.” Jon forces a smile. “I’m happy for her. Really. I was just surprised.” 

There’s a taut silence. Jon passes the pen over and Lovett takes it. He’s putting it to his mouth when his phone rings, muffled in his jeans. 

“Shit,” Lovett mutters, handing it back to Jon. He finds his phone and swipes it open. “Hey.” 

Jon takes a last hit and slips it back in his pocket. 

“Yeah,” Lovett says. “I’m still at Jon’s, sorry, we started talking. Yeah, I found it. Uh-huh. I’m just- I’m just leaving now. Yeah. Yeah. See you soon.” 

He turns away from Jon, voice quieter. “Love you too. Okay, bye.” 

Jon pushes himself upright and whistles for Leo, clicks his tongue a few times. He gives Lovett a weak smile when he turns around. “Gonna head back?” 

“Yeah, I probably should.” Lovett’s scrolling through his phone, legs pretzeled. 

“How’s the hotel? Is it nice?” 

“Yeah, really nice. We’re doing some spa thing tomorrow, Sam set it up. A massage with hot stones.” Lovett snorts. “And I think we might go to Malibu for a few days.” 

“Oh, nice. That sounds nice. Things are better with you guys, huh?” 

Lovett peers at him. 

“I guess,” he says. “I mean, it was really nice of him to come.” 

“That’s good. That’s. Really good.” 

“Yeah. You’re pretty out of it, huh?” 

“Nooo. I’m fine.” Jon staggers upright, almost falling over. He catches himself and pats his pockets to make sure the pen’s okay. “I’m just tired.” 

Lovett stands up, brushing himself off. “I feel irresponsible leaving you here alone. What if you fall and crack your head open?” 

“I’m fine,” Jon says again, forcing a laugh. He might not make it to his actual bed, but he’s fine. He’ll survive. He grabs for the screen door handle and misses. He tries again and Lovett huffs a laugh and opens it for him. 

Jon steps inside, balancing himself on the wall. “You want me to call you a Lyft?” 

"Nah, it's fine.” Lovett slides the door shut behind them. “You know I drive better when I’m high.” 

“That is such bullshit.” 

“It’s true!” 

The condo is warm and dark. Leo’s curled up on the ottoman and Jon squints at him, confused. He thought Leo was outside. He sits down heavily on the couch and reaches to pull him onto his lap. 

Lovett’s rustling around in the kitchen, putting stuff away. Jon can hear the clink of beer bottles. Finally he comes back out and stands, silhouetted, in the doorway. 

“You okay? You got a real, uh, thousand-yard stare going on there, buddy.” 

“Great,” Jon says dumbly, his fingers in Leo’s fur. He needs to be groomed soon. He’s all tangled. “I’m good. M’just gonna go to sleep.” 

“Probably a good idea.” Lovett checks his phone and slips it in his jeans pocket. “I’ll see you soon. Okay? Thanks for the second dinner.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Jon smiles in his general direction, trying to keep his eyes open. “Have fun on the beach. _At_ the beach. At- Malibu.” 

“Thanks, Jon.” Lovett breathes out a laugh. “Go to bed, okay? You’re such a lightweight. Jesus.” 

“I’m good, dude.” Jon’s too high to care about the way Lovett’s looking at him. “No worries.” 

Lovett leans down over them to scratch behind Leo’s ears. “Leo, you better take care of your dad, alright? Make sure he gets to bed. Don't let him pass out on the couch.” 

Jon chokes a miserable laugh. He wishes Lovett were staying longer, but he can’t ask for that. There are so many things he can’t ask for because he doesn’t deserve them. He doesn’t deserve to ask Lovett to stay and he didn’t deserve to ask him not to have dinner with Emily. 

Jesus, Emily’s _pregnant_. She’s having a baby. She could’ve had Jon’s baby but she didn’t, because he didn’t deserve that either. 

Lovett straightens up. “We should do something before I fly out. I’ll call you when we're back.” 

Jon’s holding Leo very tight, trying to shut up his fucking brain. “Yeah, definitely.” 

“See you soon.” 

“Yeah,” Jon says. “Good night.” 

“Good night, Jon.” 

The door closes behind him, and Jon tips backward on the couch until he’s horizontal. His breath is coming heavy and slow and he feels completely numb. Thank God. 

Distantly he feels Leo climb off him and land on the floor with a soft thump before trotting off. Probably he’s going to his bed. Jon should too. Instead he shuts his eyes. 

**-**

**JANUARY, 2022**

**-**

Emily orders a mimosa as soon as they sit down. Jon looks at her, surprised, and she stares coolly right back as Lovett says, “ _Yes_ , let’s drink. I haven’t had a mimosa in forever.” 

“So,” Lovett says, once they’ve ordered food. He picks up his mimosa and turns it in his hand. “Notice anything different? Notice anything- _new_?” 

Jon looks up from his phone, already starting to laugh. Usually when Lovett asks that it means he got a haircut and needs to be complimented. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Emily says, breathless, just as Jon sees it, glinting on Lovett’s finger. A gold band. A ring. Lovett’s wearing a ring, on his fourth finger. 

“Oh my god!” Emily squeals, and she shoves her chair back to hug Lovett hard around the shoulders. “Lovett!” 

Jon blinks in shock. Lovett’s watching him over Emily’s shoulder, grinning. 

“I’m soooo happy for you,” Emily’s saying into Lovett’s neck, rocking him back and forth. “I can’t _believe_ it, oh my god-” 

“Sam- Sam proposed?” Jon says. His voice sounds weird. 

Lovett nods against Emily’s shoulder. “He did.” 

“Holy shit,” Jon breathes. “Congrats, Jon. Wow.” 

“He doesn’t know how to express emotion,” Emily says. “Ignore him.” 

She pulls back and grabs Lovett’s hand. “I _love_ this ring. It’s gorgeous.” 

“It’s nice, right?” Lovett’s pink and happy. “I don’t even understand gay wedding etiquette, though. Like am I supposed to get him one too? Do I have to wear two rings after the wedding? How does it work?” 

Emily laughs. “ _Wedding_ ,” she says. “You’re gonna have a _wedding_. Oh my god, I can’t believe this. Like, who are you and what’d you do with Jon Lovett?” 

“I know. And it’s going to be extremely over the top. Apparently Sam’s been planning this for months.” Lovett shrugs. “I had no idea.” 

“Of course you didn’t,” Emily says fondly. She sits back down. “God. This is so amazing. I’m so happy for you, Jon. He’s so great. And you guys are just perfect together.” 

“Thanks, Em.” Lovett inspects his ring for a minute and then looks up at Jon, raising an eyebrow.  

“Wow,” Jon says again. He can’t think of anything else to say. “Congratulations, Lovett. That’s- that’s so exciting. That’s awesome.” 

Emily lets out an impatient sigh and leans forward. “Tell me everything. When did he ask? And _where_?” 

Jon looks up desperately as Lovett launches into it. He catches the waitress’ eye and lifts his empty coffee cup for a refill. He needs more caffeine. 

—

They’re silent on the drive home until Emily looks up from her phone and says, “I wonder when they’ll get married.” 

Jon hums. 

“I mean, like, probably pretty soon. Sam’s 46. Ooh, I wonder if they’ll have it in California or New York.” 

“Probably here,” Jon says. He doesn’t know why he feels so numb. “Sam’s been here a lot lately, maybe he’ll move.” 

“True.” She sighs. “I can’t believe it. Lovett’s getting married.” 

“It’s crazy,” Jon says. 

“You should try and be a little more excited, by the way.” She looks over at him. “You were a little bit rude.” 

“How was I rude?” 

“You barely said anything.” 

“Yes, I did. I said congratulations.” 

She sighs again, longer this time. “I’m just saying. You have to make a _tiny_ bit of an effort. He’s your best friend. He’s getting married. This is exciting, you should be excited.” 

Jon squeezes the steering wheel, hard. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.” 

“You kinda were, though.” 

“You’re just drunk, Em.” 

She sits up and Jon stares straight ahead, heart beating faster. 

“I’m not drunk.” 

“How many mimosas did you have?” 

She sucks in a breath. “Oh my god, it’s fucking brunch. Relax.” 

“I’m just asking a question.” 

“I’m not fucking _drunk_. You always say that when I say something you don’t like. Sometimes I just actually don’t agree with you, Jon. I know that’s hard for you to accept.” 

Jon falls silent. 

“I literally can’t believe I’m the bad guy here because I’m excited for our friend.” She laughs sourly. “Like, what is that logic?” 

“I never said you were the bad guy-” 

“Oh my god.” She groans. “Never mind. Jesus Christ. Let’s just not do this.”

“Fine,” Jon mutters. “Let’s not.” 

—

That night Jon goes for a run, right after the sun sets. When he comes in, legs shaking from sprinting the last block, Emily’s car is gone and there’s a note on the counter. 

_I’m staying at Tessa’s tonight. I fed Leo and he’s in the backyard._

_Don’t forget counseling tomorrow at 5:45. I’ll meet you there._

_E_

Jon sets it down and goes out to the back porch, legs still feeling weak. 

“Leo! Leo, c’mere! Come!” 

Leo’s happily lapping up pool water, paws dangling over the edge. Jon hates when he does that. 

“Leo,” he calls, suddenly exhausted. “Come here, buddy. Stop it.” 

He doesn’t even look up. He never fucking listens. He only listens to Emily.  

“Leo!” Jon yells, pounding the door with the flat of his hand. “Leo! Get the fuck in here!” 

Leo comes running. Jon holds the door wide open for him. For some reason he’s close to tears. 

"Hey," he chokes, squatting down and reaching for him. "Hey. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, bud. I love you. I didn't mean to scare you."

Leo ducks out of his grasp and pads off down the hall, nails clicking. Jon swallows the lump in his throat and closes the door. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> title from lucinda williams' "something about what happens when we talk" 
> 
> if i had my way/i'd be in your town  
> i might not stay/but at least i would've been around


End file.
